


Snowfall Kind of Love

by wonthetrade



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Christmas, F/M, Multi, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonthetrade/pseuds/wonthetrade
Summary: Connor McDavid’s movie is messing up Mayor Jack Eichel’s tiny town. He’s kind of messing up her life too.





	

The bell chimes merrily, followed by the sound of pounding feet. “Jordan!” 

Jordan laughs and stoops down to catch the bundle of winter coat and scarves that comes flying around the counter. “Hey Mila! Where are you off to?”

“To work with Jack!” the four-year-old informs him. “I get to file things and then I’m going to greet Connor McDavid!”

“Are you now?” He sets her gently on the ground, grinning when she tugs at his sleeve and points to the mini chocolate-chip muffins. “Okay here, don’t tell your mom I gave you one, okay?”

“You’re going to rot her teeth and Alicia is going to kill me,” Jack remarks from the door, stomping to get the excess snow off her boots. “Morning, Jordan. Did you hear the racket from all of the film trucks coming in? They haven’t even started filming yet.”

“Hard not to, since I was up baking at the time,” is the wry response. He pushes a stack of neatly boxed cakes and pies across the counter. “Just enjoy it, all right? The city council already overruled you and there’s nothing wrong with a little exposure.” He tugs at the pom pom on Mila’s hat. “Right?”

“Right!” Mila mumbles around a mouthful of muffin.

Jack glowers and hefts the boxes into her arms. “What’s the point of being the mayor if I have no say in anything? I don’t even know who Connor McDavid is!”

Mila nods solemnly. “She always falls asleep when we watch Star-Man and Nebula.”

Jordan snickers at that and Jack opens her mouth to protest when the door opens again. The woman who comes through is the exact opposite of Jack in her puffy coat and snow boots, bandbox neat in a wool peacoat over a skirt suit. She doesn’t even skid in the snow in her high heels. “Hello, I’m Connor McDavid’s manager, Ryan Nugent-Hopkins.” Her handshake is brisk. “Connor was just wondering if it would be possible to order one hundred and fifty assorted cupcakes for tomorrow? He wants to treat the film crew.”

One hundred and fifty cupcakes? Jordan thinks about the sugar cookies for Moose Lake Elementary’s Christmas pageant, the pies for the police and firemen, not to mention all of the normal bakery things, and almost wants to cry.

“Jordan’s Superman, of course he can!” Mila chirps happily. Ryan glances down at her and smiles. It absolutely transforms the seriousness of her face, dimples flickering to life on her cheeks and making her blue-gray eyes sparkle.

Jordan falls a little bit in love then and there.

“Oh really?” Ryan says, still smiling. “Well, it certainly looks like I came to the right place. It will be fine, right?”

He swallows a little bit and can actually feel Jack’s amusement rolling over him in waves. “It won’t be a problem, Ms. Nugent-Hopkins.” It looks like he’s going to have to call Leon in.

“Please, call me Ryan. I will be back this time tomorrow, then.” With a polite nod at Jack and one last smile at Mila, she sweeps right back out the door.

“Your jaw’s hanging open,” Jack observes.

“Shut up,” he says over Mila’s giggles. “Now go, I have a million cupcakes to make.”

Mila tugs at Jack’s coat as they venture back out into the cold. “Jack, Jack! Ryan said she’s Connor’s assistant! Can we go back home? He might be there!”

Jack makes a face. “I suppose we have to give him a proper Moose Lake welcome, don’t we? And we have to get these to your mom anyway.”

“Yay!” she cheers. “I get to meet Star-Man!”

The only sign of possible celebrities is the sleek SUV with tinted windows parked in the inn’s small driveway. “Alicia?” Jack calls, coming in through the kitchen door.

“Out here!” is the call. Mila squeals happily and tears for the front desk. It isn’t long before Jack hears another squeal, even more higher-pitched.

“ _ Star-Man _ !”

Jack just shakes her head, putting the pies and cakes away for Alicia to plate and slice up for later. Jordan, bless him, even included some of his amazing sugar cookies, so she slides those onto a plate to take out to Alicia and their esteemed guests. “Gotta be hospitable, right?” she mumbles sarcastically to herself. She sucks in a deep breath and heads towards the noise. 

Only one man in the room can be Connor McDavid and it’s not the man Jack would have expected. Mila’s chattering a mile a minute to the man crouched in front of her, dressed in soft flannel, jeans and boots that make him look like any other guy on the street, not a multi-million dollar actor. Jack feels something tug in her chest at the easy way he’s smiling at Mila, watched by Ryan and a man that can only be Connor McDavid’s bodyguard. 

Unless that’s the point, acting the part of the everyday joe when he’s really the world famous Star-Man. It puts Jack’s hackles up to even think it. 

“Jack, there you are!”

She pastes on a smile and has to really concentrate on not slamming the plate of cookies on the desk. “Everyone settling in okay?” 

“Just fine,” Alicia replies. “I have Connor, Ryan, and Taylor all checked in.” She gives Jack an arch look, just a little bit scolding and says slowly, warningly, “This is Jack, the owner of The Victoria. And these are Jordan’s cookies.” She picks one up, eyes glinting as she takes a bite. “Oh my god.”

“Jordan’s the one who snuck them into your order,” Jack says, “So don’t come blaming me when you eat twelve.” Then she turns and gamely extends her hand to Connor. She can be polite, Alicia, thanks. “Welcome to Moose Lake.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and Jack almost reflexively recoils. His voice is soft and earnest and entirely unexpected. Much like the way those hazel eyes shift to grey in the sunlight streaming through the window. “You have a beautiful place.”

“Thanks,” Jack says and from the little sound Alicia releases it’s not quite as gracious as she should be. She’s not being sarcastic; she loves the inn, she’s proud of it. There is a sense of pure joy that rises up in her when someone compliments the inn and it’s  _ hers _ . There's just something about him that puts her on edge.  She digs her nails into her palms, reminds herself to be a gracious host. “I couldn’t get by without Alicia or her husband Matt, though.”

“And me and Georgie help decorate!” Mila announces proudly, even tugs on Connor’s shirt. “We love Christmas!”

“It seems like all of Moose Lake likes Christmas. Which is why we’re here,” Ryan says with a gracious smile, passing Taylor a cookie. He takes one bite and looks like he’s gone to heaven. Jack sympathizes; Jordan’s baking often elicits that kind of reaction. 

Connor drops Jack’s hand and huh, she hadn’t even realized they were still touching. She rubs her palm on her jeans. 

“Right,” Connor agrees easily. “Is there any way we can contact the mayor? We understand she hasn’t been quite happy about our presence here, and I would like to just…”

“Grease the wheels?” Jack asks archly, ignoring Alicia’s sudden coughing fit behind her.

He flashes her a grin that comes off sheepish, not sleazy and it makes Jack grit her teeth. No one is this real when they come from Hollywood, fame and money. “Not at all. I just want to thank her for the opportunity and assure her that we’re going to do everything in our power to make sure we’re not interfering with Moose Lake’s Christmas celebrations.” 

Mila giggles. “Jack  _ is _ the mayor!”

Connor’s eyes go comically wide. Or at least, it would be comical if Jack were in the mood. “That’s me.” 

His mouth opens and closes a few times before Ryan steps up. “I’m sorry we didn’t-”

Jack waves her off as Alicia clears her throat. 

“How about a tour?” she suggests cheerfully. “Jack can take you around, help you get a feel for the place, and you can show her how unobtrusive you’re going to be.” Her smile hardens as she turns to Jack. “The way the town knows you will be.” 

Jack doesn’t exactly frown, but it’s a near thing. 

“Please?” Mila begs. “We can show him the square and the skating rink and the bakery and-”

“I have some paperwork and a few meetings, but I can clear some time this afternoon,” Jack finally says, a little bit placating for Mila. It’s not really one of the top things she could ever imagine doing with her day, escorting around a superstar and his crew. “See if you can convince me I’m wrong.” 

There’s a subtle flare in Connor’s eyes as she meets his gaze head on and Jack feels something spring to life in her stomach. “That sounds wonderful, Madame-”

“Jack,” she says. “Just Jack.”

“Jack, then.” He watches her for a beat longer before he repeats, “I promise we won’t get in the town’s way. You won’t even know we’re here.”

“We’ll see about that.”

 

There’s a whole crew waiting for her outside of City Hall once Jack finishes all of her duties for the day. Connor, Ryan, and Taylor are all there, of course, but Alicia and Georgie are also in tow, with Mila chattering a mile a minute to an actress Jack definitely recognizes. ”You’re Princess Aster,” she blurts to Steph Jones, who looks more beautiful in person than anyone has a right to be.

Steph beams. “I am! You must be Mayor Jack. I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along, but I just had to see more of your gorgeous town.”

Jack can feel her chest swell with pride. She’s so proud of her hometown. Being mayor has only made it more her own and she can’t help how wonderful it feels when other people appreciate it, too. “I’m glad. So, I guess I’ll start the tour with a little bit of history. Moose Lake was founded in 1892 when…”

The tour takes them down Main Street, with City Hall and the town square sitting on opposite ends. Jack points out the library, the sheriff’s office, and the old high school, all of which are on the National Historic Register. “We’re small but we’re proud of our traditions,” she explains. “Like the Festival of Lights, which happens Christmas Eve in the town square.”

“There’s a rink and lights in the gazebo, and Santa!” Mila exclaims before letting out a cry of dismay.

Jack’s hard pressed not to make a sound herself. Production trucks are parked all around Moose Lake’s town square. People are rushing back and forth, carrying cameras, equipment, and racks of clothes. Their decorations look as though they’ve been replaced, and worst of all, Santa is missing. “Mr. McDavid,” she begins frostily, turning towards Connor and seeing him wince. Good. “This is definitely a disturbance.”

Before he can answer, there’s a shout. “Oh good, you’re here,” says a tall brunette wearing a headset. “Davo, I’m going to need you to sign off on-”

“Dylan, this is Jack Eichel, the mayor of Moose Lake,” he cuts in quickly. “Jack, this is our director, Dylan Strome. Um, Stromer, what happened to the decorations?”

“Set designer didn’t like them,” she replies absently, squinting off into the distance.

“What about Santa?” Mila asks, coming up next to Jack.

“Crew struck the statue, didn’t think it fit in.”

Mila’s eyes grow wide. “They hit Santa?” she ventures, her voice wobbling. That’s it, Jack decides. She’s going to push all of them into the lake, she doesn't  _ care  _ if it's frozen.

Connor drops to one knee in front of Mila, despite the snow. “No, not at all. Struck is just a theater and movie word for putting things away.”

“But Santa’s the most important!”

“We’ll do something,” Connor promises, then turns to look at Dylan. “Right, Stromer?”

Stromer’s - Dylan - eyes go sharp. “Right,” she says slowly. “I’ll speak to the designers.” There’s a shout and Dylan turns to look, huffs. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

It doesn’t stop Jack’s frown as she looks around at the chaos. She wanders around the square, making note of everything that’s changed. The garlands around the lampposts are gone and the snowflake wreaths from the elementary school are no longer hanging on the back of the park benches. The holly and ribbons have been taken from the gazebo. Most of all, Santa is no longer in his prime spot at the main entrance to the square. Jesus. One of the first things she did as mayor was commission someone to restore that statue.

By the time she makes her way back to the group, she probably has steam coming out of her ears. She doesn’t care if Connor McDavid is a Big Time Star, she’s going to tell him exactly what she thinks about his movie people coming here and upending everything.

Except that Mila’s doing it for her, her tiny arms gesticulating wildly as she pleads her case to a captive audience. “The first mayor made the Santa statue for Moose Lake, that’s why we always use it! It used to look really bad, but then Jack fixed it when she became mayor. Now it looks just like it used to.”

“We’ll bring Santa back, I promise,” he says solemnly.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mr. McDavid,” Jack warns as Mila skips away to tell her mother the good news.

He gets to his feet, eyeing her warily. “Please, you told me to call you Jack, so call me Connor. I can assure you that we will fix this.”

Jack crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “That remains to be seen.”

For the first time, he looks vaguely irritated. “I don’t understand-”

“You’re right, you don’t,” she interrupts, keeping her voice hushed. “I didn’t want your crew here for a reason. This town and this Christmas means  _ everything _ to me and I don’t like it being disturbed for some... _ movie _ .” She shakes her head and looks up at the sky for a moment, not sure if she’s looking for assistance or answers. “But I’ve been overruled and you’re staying at my inn, so. Here we are.”

The look Connor gives her now is strange, a mixture of respect and frustration. “Here we are,” he echoes. He makes as if to run his hand through his hair, only belatedly remembering the hat on his head. “This won’t happen again, I  _ promise _ . I wanted Moose Lake for a reason, too, and the last thing I want to do is mess anything up.”

Jack smiles thinly. “Well. Maybe we do understand each other after all.”

 

The first chime of the bakery’s bells is something Jordan’s been waiting for since yesterday. His heart jumps a little bit in his chest because visions of Ryan’s smile might have kept him going through everything he needed to bake. “Right on time,” he begins, coming out of the kitchen with boxes of cupcakes in hand.

Ryan’s there all right, hand-in-hand with a blonde giant. Jordan feels his stomach plummet. Of course, of  _ course _ she’s taken. Why wouldn’t she be? She’s gorgeous, successful, and completely poised. He never stood a chance. “Your cupcakes are ready,” he says, much softer.

“You must be Jordan!” the blonde pipes up as Jordan deposits the boxes onto the counter. “Those cookies of yours are amazing, the best I’ve ever had. I’m Taylor, Connor McDavid’s bodyguard.”

Jordan blinks at the man’s effusiveness, but he’ll take compliments about his food wherever he can get it. Especially from people with eyes as blue as Taylor’s. “Thank you, they’re an old family recipe.”

“These too?” Ryan asks, popping open one box and peering inside. When she glances back up at him, she’s grinning, and honestly that dimple slays him.

_ Taken, her boyfriend is right there _ , he reminds himself furiously. “No, those I came up with myself. It’s an assortment - bourbon vanilla, double chocolate, red velvet, peppermint and chocolate, and butterscotch.”

Taylor groans. “Forget the rest of the crew, I’m eating all of these myself!” he declares, swiping up all the boxes. “Davo’s going to have to fight me for them.”

“Don’t you dare,” Ryan growls, handing over a credit card. She sends a wistful look at the display case as she does so and that’s it, Jordan’s gone.

“You guys can stop by later, if you’re free,” he blurts out, ringing up the order. “Today’s special is mini mince pies and mulled wine or cider.”

“I don’t know what mince pies are but they sound delicious,” Taylor announces. He winks at Jordan and his stomach lurches again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “Sounds like a deal.”

“Thanks Jordan, this is wonderful!” Ryan waves as she follows Taylor out. Jordan waves back, waits until they’re out of sight, and then slumps forward, resting his head on the counter.

“You sure know how to pick them, Eberle,” he groans. He’s always known he was bi, in an abstract kind of way. Moose Lake’s a tiny town in northern Maine, so it’s not like he’s ever been able to really pursue that. Now, not only is he confronted by not one, but two people he’s attracted to, but they’re together. Ridiculous.

Well, when the going gets tough, bake. At least emotional crises are good for business - he comes up with his best recipes that way.

 

“Look, there’s not much I can do. You know how Connor gets when he wants something.” Dylan pauses for the response from the set designer, rolls her eyes and moves to her director’s chair. Because Connor is a gem like that. “I get that, I do. You can call Connor and ask.”

God, it’s only two days into this damn shoot and she already wants a break. She cannot stand the run around, the constant pressure and timelines and budgets. She knows for a fact that if it weren’t for Connor and his dumb doe eyes she would be curled up at home with Matt and Ryan mocking the hell out of  _ Elf _ . Instead, she’s in the freezing tundra of the United States filming a movie with Hollywood’s princess and a literal golden child. 

The things she does for Connor. 

She mumbles to herself as she makes her way back across the set and pulls up short when she sees just who has commandeered her director’s chair. “What are you doing?”

“Stromer!” Mitch Marner crows. “Nice to see you too. You’re looking…” He eyes her up and down in a way that does not do anything to her insides, thanks butterflies. “Fine.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to have to call you back.” She doesn’t bother listening to the ensuing squawk, just jabs the ‘end call’ button and glares. “You’re in my seat.”

“Oh am I?” Mitch says and doesn’t move. “It’s a comfy seat. I can see why you like it.” He wiggles around a little, camera bouncing precariously on his chest. He’s going to break it one day, and Dylan is not going to be sympathetic about it. She’s really not. 

“What are you even doing here, Marner?” 

He straightens and Dylan ignores the little wrinkle that forms between his eyebrows. “Davo invited me.”

Dylan stiffens. “What?”

Mitch looks a little more wary now, a little more like maybe he’s said something he wasn’t supposed to. “He invited me to the shoot. Pictures and stuff, you know, for my show.”

“You’re doing a show?!” 

Now he looks offended. “Yeah. In a gallery. He thought it would be great, with Christmas and the small town and the movie set…he didn’t tell you?”

Dylan straightens her shoulders. She’s the director here. “Excuse me.” 

She flees. 

Well, that’s probably dramatic. What she does is head straight to Connor’s trailer and pounds on the door and doesn’t really wait for an answer before she shoves it open. 

“Mitchell Marner is currently sitting in my director’s chair,” she says without preamble or introduction. “You want to tell me why?”

Connor blinks at her innocently. She’s going to kill him. Movie or no movie she is going to absolutely  _ murder _ his adorable Canadian ass for meddling in something that is only a thing in his happy little fantasy land and not here in Moose Lake, goddamn it. 

“Because it’s perfect? He has a show coming up, Stromer, he needs shots. What better place than here?” He glances over at Ryan, like he expects her to step in. 

“Nuh uh. No way. I know better,” is Ryan’s response. “I do not meddle. You can’t make me.” 

Connor pouts. Ryan, bless her wonderful heart, is unmoved. 

“Steph’s here, she always looks good on camera,” Connor finally says. He makes his eyes wide, guileless. “Dyls, he needed help. I offered help. Why can’t you just get along with him for a couple of days, it’s not that hard.”

“Not that hard?  _ Not that hard?! _ You  _ know _ what university was like with him!” Dylan retorts, ignoring the way Ryan sighs and leans back. Connor and Dylan were friends long before Ryan came into the picture. She can just deal. 

“I know you spent a lot of years sniping at each other and admiring each other from afar,” Connor says patiently, because he is the worst human on the planet. Besides Mitch Marner. And sometimes her brothers. Dammit. “But, come on, Stromer. It’s Mitch. We like Mitch.”

“ _ You _ like Mitch.”

Connor sighs, put upon and exasperated. “He’s not going to get in the way. He’s not even in the way now. There are plenty of chairs. Don’t be stubborn.” 

She almost bites something back, seriously considers it for more than a breath. Instead, she says, “He’s your problem, you hear me Davo? I’m not dealing with him.”

“Sure,” Connor agrees, oozing affability. “It’ll be fine, Stromer. You’ll see. He won’t even be in your way.” 

Dylan huffs. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Connor beams. 

 

They’re late filming and Connor hates it. He’s feeling the pressure: the budget, the timing, the script, and then Jack breathing down his neck. He likes traditions as much as the next person, especially around the holidays and he’s trying his best, he really is. It’s just a lot. 

He’s exhausted when they finally finish, but that doesn’t mean his brother’s name on his caller ID doesn’t make him smile. “Cam, hey.”

“Hey Con. Did you call Mom this week?”

“No,” Connor answers, looks around to see the town crowding into the square. The snowman contest, he remembers. “Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah yeah,” Cam answers immediately. “Everything’s good, don’t worry.”

“But?”

“But they’re going on a cruise.”

Connor feels his heart sink, just a little. “Oh. I mean. That’s good. They wanted to get away.” He swallows, because he knows what’s coming next. “When?”

Cam’s quiet for a moment. “Over Christmas,” he finally answers softly. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not.” He can’t be. He wants this for his parents, a vacation away, time to themselves. He’s the one that’s been pushing for it. “I…”

“I’m sorry,” Cam says, when he realizes there isn’t anything else coming. 

Connor feels the sting in his eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

“You could still come here,” Cam offers quietly. “You’re always welcome.”

“Thanks.” But they both know he won’t. They both know Connor brings a circus, and while it’s easier to handle in their home neighbourhood, where the elderly woman next door changed his diapers and his kindergarten teacher lives down the street, Cam’s neighbourhood isn’t quite that chill. 

They talk while Connor makes his way back to his trailer before Connor begs off and tosses the phone on the couch. He follows it down, face first, and just closes his eyes for a moment. Then two. 

The knock startles him, and he tries to shove himself up, make himself look presentable. 

“Connor? Mr. McDavid? I - oh.”

Connor has to close his eyes for a moment. Of course it would be Jack, put together and beautiful, curls peeking out from under her toque, bundled up tight in winter gear. “Jack?”

“I’ll come back.”

“No.”

Jack stops, turns slowly. There’s a moment before she says. “Bad day?”

It’s this halting thing, like she’s forcing herself to ask and Connor sighs. “Just family stuff.” Before he realizes it his mouth is moving because he just...wants to tell her things. Anything to make her stay. It’s been like that ever since she stared him down and told him just how little she cared for his crew mucking up her town. God, there must be something wrong with him. “My parents are going on a cruise.”

Just like that, something softens in her face. She steps completely inside, gently shutting the door behind her. Still, he's kind of surprised when she drops onto the couch beside him. “My sister works in Switzerland for the IOC. My parents are going there to spend Christmas with her.”

“And you're here because of the town and the inn,” he murmurs, understanding. 

“Yup. It kind of sucks, doesn't it, when duty and responsibility and love keep you away from other important things.”

He keeps his eyes on his hands, because looking at her is just going to destroy him, he's sure. She  _ gets  _ it. “I don't get to see them a lot, and they understand because they know how much I love it. But...Christmas is the one time we really have time to see each other. And uh, it would be weird spending it at my brother's. His friends and neighbors just see the movie star and it gets uncomfortable for everyone.”

Jack squints at him. “You're really that big of a celebrity?”

And she just sounds so doubtful that Connor bursts out laughing. “You really have no idea,” he murmurs, a little awed.

She rolls her eyes. “Sorry. Maybe if you'd played hockey.”

“No, no.” He reaches out, touches her wrist. “You have no idea how nice that is.”

“Nice?” Jack snorts. “Mila’s always going on and on about just how much you get to do. The private jets, the travel, the house, the-”

Connor looks down at where he’s still touching her wrist. “She’s a kid.”

“A kid who can use the internet. Anyway.” She blows out a breath. “I thought I’d check on you. Be mayorly, and all that.”

“I appreciate it.” Before he loses his nerve, he leans forward to kiss her cheek. Her skin is still red from the cold and he just...wants to. She’s been difficult and challenging and just  _ nice.  _ He’s never wanted to get to know someone like this quite some time. “Um, thanks. For talking with me.”

Jack eyes him a little suspiciously. “Like I said, just being mayorly.”

“You're not what I expected, you know. When Ryan said the mayor was making a fuss, I pictured someone old and crotchety.”

“Make no mistake, I might not be old but I'm definitely crotchety.”

“Not just that, though.”

Silence stretches out after that. Finally, she makes a face and gets to her feet and Connor just sighs inwardly. He has a few more days, he can figure this out. Figure  _ her _ out. “Ugh. Mila would never forgive me if I didn’t ask...do you want to build a snowman?”

He cannot help beaming at her. “ _ Frozen _ , really?”

“Mila,” she shoots back. “Well, are you coming or not? The contest begins in five minutes.”

“Of course.” He scrambles after her, can’t help the way he lets his hand brush down the back of her coat. “Thanks for asking.”

“Well, for my sake and Mila’s you’d better be good at building snowmen.”

It turns out he isn’t. Their first attempt has Mila pouting at a vaguely snowman-shaped lump. Alicia is valiantly trying to hold back a smile, and Jack is scowling.

“I’m a mayor, not a snowman builder!”

“I swear this was easier when I was a kid,” Connor mutters. “Too bad we can’t stick it in a makeup chair.” PK could work his miracles on this horrific excuse for a snowman, he knows it. And that sparks an idea. “Wait a minute…”

Jack eyes him. “What?”

“Come on!”

A five-minute raid of the wardrobe trailer later, and their snowman is decidedly hockey themed, with a jersey, stick, gloves, and toque. They win second place.

“We didn’t even place last year,” Alicia confides to Connor as Mila runs off to show Matt and Georgie their ribbon. “So I guess we owe you this one!”

He jams his hands into his pockets, smiling. Jack’s making her rounds with the other teams, both congratulating and consoling. She’s just so amazingly good at what she does, instantly putting everyone around her at ease. “I’m just glad Jack invited me.”

Alicia hums and gives him an amused look. “I bet.”

 

Jack stays out of the film crew’s way the next day. Or, at least, that’s what she convinces herself she’s doing when she holes up in her office with ‘paperwork’ when really, she just smuggled one of Mila’s Star-Man movies out of the house to see what all the fuss is about. They’re actually really good, and she watches one more on Netflix before  _ actually  _ finishing some paperwork. Time passes and before she knows it, Sam’s knocking on her door and drags her out to see this year’s carriage just before the night’s carriage rides start.

“Your family never disappoints, Sam,” Jack laughs, watching as Mila feeds the snow-white horses apple slices. “What are their names?”

“What do you think? Snow and White, of course.”

She shoves at him as he laughs, feeling vindicated when he trips into a snowbank. “They are not, stop lying.”

“Okay, I’m lying. But one of them is actually named Milky White, former owners were huge musical theater people. The other one is Pegasus.”

“You guys do carriage rides, too?” Connor walks up to them, smiling but looking faintly exhausted. Jack knows from Alicia that he and Steph had a 5:00 a.m. call time. 

“Connor!” Mila shrieks happily, running over for a hug. Georgie waddles after her, kicking up huge snow drifts.

Jack frowns a little bit as she watches him crouch down to chat to the two children. He’s patient, and more than happy to just listen to them as they tell him about their days. No doubt Mila’s still trying to get him to hand Taylor over to her wholesale, just because she thinks that she needs a bodyguard, too.

Sam picks himself off, dusting the snow off his pants. “Still hate his guts?” he remarks casually.

“I don’t hate him,” Jack sighs, exasperated. “I just don’t like all the fuss this movie thing has stirred in the town. Not to mention the way it’s messing with all the Christmas activities.”

“Yep, it sure looked like he was messing things up during the snowman competition yesterday,” he remarks slyly.

Sometimes Jack really hates her friends.

“Jack!” Mila comes bounding back, Connor and Georgie in tow. Connor, she notices, is carrying Georgie and no, it does not make her stomach twist into knots at all. “I told Connor that since you’re the mayor, you get the first carriage ride and that since we’re going with you, he should come with us!”

“Pleeeeease?” Georgie whines, clinging tighter to Connor’s neck. “I wanna ride with Star-Man!”

“I couldn’t,” Connor begins. “Surely their parents-”

“Oh no, you guys go right ahead,” Matt cuts in cheerfully. Jack’s going to strangle him later, she doesn’t care that he takes care of all the plumbing at the inn. “That just means Alicia and I will have a carriage ride all to ourselves.” Alicia just covers her mouth, her eyes twinkling merrily.

Yeah, she’s definitely going to kill them. “Well, let’s get a move on then, the line’s long!” Jack helps Mila in and climbs in after her, leaving Connor no choice but to scramble in after them to take the seat across, still holding onto Georgie.

“Don’t forget your blankets!” Sam chirps, throwing up two thick, quilted carriage blankets. “My mom made them herself!”

Luckily Jack doesn’t have to say a thing. Mila and Georgie take over, pointing out all their favorite places in town. “Do you have things like this where you’re from, Connor?” Mila asks.

“In Toronto? Probably, but I’ve never seen or experienced them. Usually I’m just at home with my family, but they’re away this year.”

“Like Jack’s parents? They’re going to the Alps!”

Connor looks up and catches Jack’s eye. “Exactly like Jack.”

“You should just stay here, in Moose Lake! We have the best Christmases here.”

His gaze slides back over to Mila as he smiles and replies, “I’m beginning to see that.” 

Jack shivers slightly, feeling as though he’s spoken to her instead. 

 

After the carriage ride, Mila and Georgie insist on giving Connor a tour of their wing of the inn while their parents take a turn. Connor oohs and ahhs over Georgie’s hockey-themed room before Jack shoes him and Mila away so that she can get the little boy ready for bed.

Mila tugs at Connor’s hand, leading him down the hallway. “This is my room!” 

Connor smiles as he steps inside, looks around with his hands tucked in his pockets. “Wow,” he says, and follows her in. 

For the most part, it’s a stereotypical little girl’s room. Fairy lights decorate the metal bed frame, draped in gauzy fabric Connor will never be able to name. It’s cozy, comfy, and very Mila, if the Star-Man and Nebula posters are any indication. He chuckles a little as he passes one, reaching out to run his fingers along the edge. 

“Look at that,” he says. “Star-Man looks so strong, eh?”

“He is strong.  _ You’re _ strong.” 

He hums, settles on the edge of the bed where Mila’s flopped on her back. She looks over at him, flashes him a grin. 

“When I grow up, I’m going to be famous.”

“Oh yeah?” Connor asks. “For what?”

“For being me,” she declares. 

“Lucky for you, you’ve grown up with the internet,” Connor replies with a laugh, reaching out to tweak her nose.

Mila laughs too, flopping over so she can face him on her stomach. “If your parents are away, where are you going to spend Christmas?” 

Connor sighs. “At home. In Toronto.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s where I live,” he answers with a little smile. 

It’s quiet for a minute, like she’s rolling that around in her head. “When my dad was going to play hockey,” Mila begins slowly. “He says it was hard, always away from my mom. And that all he had to remember was that home wasn’t where he was or where he lived. It was where he loved. And he’s always loved my mom.” 

Connor swallows thickly around the lump in his throat. “Sounds smart.”

“Yeah,” Mila replies, smile sunny. 

“And.” Connor has to swallow again, runs his fingers absently through the ‘fur’ on the penguin in his arms. “What about Jack? Does she believe that, too?”

Mila’s smile doesn’t dim. “Silly. Jack’s the one who said it first.”

“She - what?”

“Mom says Jack told Dad and then Dad said it to her.”

Connor nods, glances down at the bedspread, the sparkle thread woven through the material. “Jack’s pretty smart.”

“The smartest. Maybe besides my mom.” 

Connor chuckles. “Yeah, your mom’s pretty smart too.” 

The sound of the bedroom door opening interrupts the conversation and they both look up as Jack leans against the frame. “What are you two plotting now?”

Mila bounces up, even jumps on the bed a little. “We’re talking about Christmas!”

Connor feels his heart thump hard as he watches Mila bounce into Jack’s arms, hugging her tight.

“Not Christmas,” Jack exclaims, twirls Mila before setting her back on the bed. “Are you telling Star-Man what you want for Christmas?” 

“No! You can’t do that! Christmas wishes-”

“Are just between you and Santa,” Jack choruses, smiling at Mila. “I know.”

Connor clears his throat around the lump that’s formed there, but it also serves the purpose of startling Mila and Jack out of the little world they seem to have created. Jack’s eyes are flustered as they fix on his and Connor hates the way it feels like he’s just ruined something precious.

But rather than shut him out, Jack just rolls her eyes a little. “Hey Star-Man, Georgie refuses to go to sleep until you tell him a story. Think you can oblige him?”

“Ooooooh, me too!” Mila pipes up. “Me too, please, Connor?”

“Uh,” Connor begins, a little thrown by how important it is to be asked to do this. “Of course. Maybe you should put your pajamas on and brush your teeth so that you’re ready when I’m done with Georgie, okay?”

“Yes!” Mila launches herself off the bed and towards her closet.

“First door on the right,” Jack says, walking him out to the hallway. She hesitates a moment, then blurts out, “Thanks. For indulging them tonight.”

“It wasn’t indulging.” Being around kids never is, not for him. “I was-I  _ am _ happy to do it. They’re great kids.” Her roots run deep here, deeper than he ever could have imagined. “They mean a lot to you.”

“They mean everything to me,” she agrees. She looks so unguarded in that moment, skin still rosy from the cold and glowing in the reflection of the Christmas lights. Something about her just pulls at him, as inevitable as falling.

He’s in  _ so _ much trouble.

 

Dylan’s muttering to herself in the bakery when a hot scone slides under her nose. She rears back, her head knocking into someone’s stomach. 

“Didn’t expect to get assaulted for bringing you food,” Mitch says with a laugh that’s tight around the edges. “But I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

Dylan reflexively flips the script closed. “What are you doing here?” 

“I, uh.” His shoulders have gone tense and Dylan feels a knot form in her stomach. “I’m bringing you food? You were always less cranky with food.” 

Dylan swallows, looks at the scone. It’s strawberry, she can tell.

“Yeah,” Mitch says and Dylan realizes she’s said it out loud. “Still your favourite, right?”

How did he even know that in the first place? “Yeah,” she says slowly, reaching out for the scone. “Davo told you?”

Mitch shrugs. “I went to university with you.” 

It pulls her up short and she blinks down at her plate for a moment. “You - you remembered?” 

“Not hard.” But Dylan gets the sense that he’s not being entirely truthful. “What was it, third year? You pitched an almighty fit in the caf over their decision to switch out strawberry jam for raspberry.” 

It was third year. Dylan remembers it clearly as one of the more embarrassing things she’s done after a post-show cast party. “Oh.”

She doesn’t really know what to do with that, with the fact that he remembered or with the memories his mere presence is bringing back to the surface. History says he’s an asshole, that she should hate him and everything he stands for. But Connor’s right. Mitch hasn’t been in the way. He hangs around the set, around Connor and some of her film crew that go way back, but he’s never impeded progress. Dylan hates it when someone else is the ‘bigger person’.

“Sit,” she decides, breaking the scone in half. “You like strawberry?”

There’s a moment where she thinks he’s going to refuse and walk away, leaving her with a broken strawberry scone and embarrassment on her cheeks. Instead, he oh so slowly takes the half she offers him. 

“Thanks,” he says and sits. 

Dylan goes back to her script, goes back to muttering to herself until she hears the click of a camera shutter. Her head flies up and she startles a little when she sees the look on Mitch’s face as he looks down at the screen of his camera. 

“Did you just take my picture?” 

“Hm?” he says, then his eyes go wide. “Um. Yeah. Did you...want to see?” 

Dylan blinks for a moment. He’s always been like this, she knows, impulsive with his photography, feeling the moment, and her heart flips over in her chest. “I um. Sure.” 

Dylan follows Mitch on Instagram. She knows what his photography looks like, the care and focus she can see because she knows what it takes to find that perfect shot. But even knowing that, she feels unprepared to see her own face, half shadowed by the way her hair falls over her cheek. She looks focused, set, but confident, even as she chews on her pen. 

“It’s pretty good.”

It’s… revealing. 

He hums. “Yeah.” His eyes flick up to hers, a smile briefly wrinkling up his entire face for a moment. “Good enough you’ll sign a release and let me use it?”

“Pretty sure a tabloid’s not going to pay you for a picture of me,” is the dry response.

Mitch sighs, disappointed. “You totally weren’t listening to me the other day, were you Stromer? Davo invited me here so that I could get pictures for a gallery showing I have coming up in February.”

Now she feels a little guilty because she remembers him saying that, only it had been covered by her annoyance at finding him on her set. “No, I remember, I just...forgot. At this moment. It’s a good photo.” She pauses for a moment. “Why don’t you-”

“Can’t have gallery shows all the time,” he interrupts breezily, waving a hand in the air. “Man’s gotta pay the bills, right?”

Dylan’s brow furrows. “So wait, you’ll come here to take photos of people because Connor says you should, but you won’t take a studio job when Connor offers to put you in touch with people?” Because this is a conversation she’s had with Connor time and time again, and she’s never been able to understand.

“Stromer, I’m not going to take charity. You’ve worked really hard and done amazing things, but that wasn’t in the cards for me. I’ll get there my own way.” He fiddles with his napkin a bit, biting his lower lip like he’s unsure about something.

“But it’s been-”

“I know how long it’s been,” he snaps, looking irritated. He sighs again, then pushes his chair out from the table. “I should-”

Dylan reaches out before she even thinks about it, grabbing his wrist and then quickly dropping it because heaven help whoever would grab her that way. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I won’t bring it up again.” She waves at his messenger bag. “So. Do you have a release form in there?”

Mitch tilts his head to the side, blue eyes bright and considering. “I do. You sure?”

“It’s a good photo.”

He grins. “Yeah. It is.” He settles back in, comfortable as you please, and waves at Jordan. “Hey, can I get one of those awesome chili hot chocolates, Jordan?”

“Coming right up!”

“Awesome.”

 

“Do you have to be such a cliche?” Jordan asks Noah with exasperation. Moose Lake’s deputy sheriff is perched in his favorite place close by the counter, mint hot chocolate in front of him and a donut in each hand.

“You only bring out the eggnog donuts around Christmas, I have to be proactive,” is Noah’s response. “Also, I want to get a load of these people you’ve been pining over.”

He almost drops the box of maple-bacon iced buns that Noah’s supposed to take over to the station. “I’m not pining!”

“Sure about that?” Noah asks around a mouthful of donut. Honestly, between him and Jack, Jordan’s not sure how he has any hair anymore. They’re menaces  _ and _ they’re in positions of power. Thankfully, they’re easily swayed by baked goods. He knows their weaknesses.

Unfortunately, that means they know his, too.

The bell chimes merrily. “Hi Ebby! What do you have for us today?”

Noah raises his eyebrow at the nickname and Jordan shoots him a look. “Hi Nuge, Hallsy. I have iced buns today - maple bacon, chocolate and cinnamon, and vanilla and cherry.”

“He made the cherry preserves himself,” Noah volunteers from his little table, waving a hand. “What’s up?”

Taylor waves cheerfully. “Man, Ebby, what do we have to do to wrap you up and take you back to Toronto with us?”

Jordan feels himself flush. This is so not fair. He has to be imagining the teasing gleam in those eyes, or the soft smile on Ryan’s face as she settles on the chair next to Noah. “I’m pretty sure my nan would come back from the grave and haunt me if I left the bakery,” he demurs. “Let me guess. Two hot chocolates with cinnamon?”

“And the chocolate cinnamon buns, please,” Ryan says, unwinding her scarf. “Maybe a small box of the vanilla cherry ones for Connor and Dylan too.”

When they finally let themselves out half an hour later, Jordan allows himself to plop into Ryan’s vacated chair, banging his head against the table. “See?” he asks Noah. “They drive me insane. They’re perfect, and they’re perfect  _ together _ .”

“I don’t know,” Noah says thoughtfully, standing up and bundling up, layer by layer. “They seemed like they were both flirting with you, hardcore.”

“They were  _ not _ .” He despairs.

“Trust me, I’m in law enforcement. I’m supposed to be observant, and there was some serious eye-sexing going on.” He picks up the box of maple bacon buns. “Think about it.”

He does nothing  _ but  _ think about Ryan and Taylor, lately. It’s too much. “You’re insane!” he calls after him. “I think hanging around that movie set has put ideas in your head!”

He wouldn’t mind those ideas coming true, though.

 

“Is that your megaphone?” Jack asks Dylan in an undertone as Sam reads out the rules for the night’s snowball fight.

She nods sagely. “He promised to take good care of it.”

Jack eyes her, then gestures to the other side of the ribbon, where Connor is standing with Mitch. “Uh. Shouldn’t you be over there?” 

“Why?” Dylan grins. “Do you know how badly I want to get Mitch in the face with a snowball? And vice versa?” Now it’s her turn to side-eye Jack. “And don’t tell me you don’t want to get Connor, either.”

“Isn’t he your best friend?” Jack senses a trap.

“Yeah, but he’s also an asshole who deserves a snowball to the face every once in awhile.”

That gets her snorting. “Well. You don’t have to pull my arm.”

“Just, you know, be careful. There’s only so much PK will be able to cover with makeup.”

Across the massive pile of snowballs, Mitch leans over to Connor. “Do you think they’re conspiring against us?”

And Connor can’t lie, he’s been watching Dylan and Jack interact for the last few minutes and has been feeling rather fuzzy about it. “Undoubtedly.” There is something insanely compelling about the sly smirk on Jack’s face and the twinkle of anticipation in her eyes. 

Mitch nods and starts doing some ridiculous calisthenic stretches. “We so got this, Davo. Kings of the snowball fight, right here.”

“Remember, dodgeball rules apply, so if you’re hit with a snowball, you’re out! No second chances, and no crossing the center line!” Sam says through the megaphone. “Teams, are you ready?”

A cheer goes up.

“Ready, set, GO!”

Connor McDavid is wily, Jack has to admit. Despite being such an obvious target, he’s really freaking fast and has one hell of an arm. She is not ashamed to say that she and Dylan sometimes use other townspeople as shields in their ongoing two-on-two war. 

_ Thwack.  _ A snowball gets Dylan right in the middle of her bright red jacket. “F-fudging hell, Davo!” she swears, over both Connor and Mitch’s delighted cackles.

Connor sends her a shit-eating grin, gracefully dodging Jack’s follow-up attack. “All’s fair, Stromer. Did you really think you were going to beat me?”

“I’ve beat you before you-you friggin’ beanpole!” Dylan howls. “You’d better get him for me, Jack!”

“I got you, Dylan,” Jack says, staying carefully out of range as she stockpiles her snowballs.

Connor turns to her, his eyes bright with challenge. “And then there was one. Ready to go down, Madame Mayor?”

Dylan was right. Connor McDavid is an absolute shit. “The only one going down is you,  _ Star-Dude _ .” And while he sputters indignantly, she fires off three snowballs in succession, the first one to fake him out and the second and third to finish him off. It’s a finely honed technique and it works every time, getting him first in the shoulder and then in the leg.

He skids to a halt, his mouth hanging open and his expression completely outraged. “What -  _ what _ ?”

She grins, triumphant. “Looks like you’re out.”

“But- I- You  _ cheated _ .”

“Seemed fair and square to me, Davo,” Dylan calls from the sidelines and Jack just smirks as Mitch cackles. 

Connor huffs indignantly. “You’re all terrible people,” he announces as he stomps off to join Dylan, but he can’t help grinning, soft and a little dumb, at the way Jack’s smiling at him, wide and genuine and oh god, there are snowflakes in her hair.

Mitch’s gaze darts between Connor and Jack and he shakes his head, edging closer to the center line. “Jack and Connor, sitting in a tree,” he sings, just low enough that Connor and Dylan don’t hear him.

Jack smiles sweetly, winds up, and beans him right in the face.

 

“Nurse Ryan we have a casualty.” 

Ryan looks up from where she’s been clearing out her inbox to see Taylor propping up a hobbling Jordan. “Oh my god.”

“Tis but a flesh wound,” Taylor says and Ryan bites her lip against the way Jordan rolls his eyes. 

“Went over funny on my ankle. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just some ice and it’ll be good for tomorrow.” 

Ryan looks skeptically at the way Jordan can only gingerly put weight on his foot. “You sure?” 

“Yeah,” Jordan says with a smile that probably gets him everything. “There’s probably an ice pack in the freezer at The Vic. Alicia won’t mind.” 

Which is how Ryan finds herself with her foot tucked under her body, shin pressed against Jordan’s thigh while he ices his ankle. It feels warm and she keeps catching Taylor’s eye over Jordan’s head, grinning wide and laughing as Jordan talks about midget hockey and the first time he ever baked a cake. 

“Mom was livid,” he says, grinning with that gap in his teeth that Ryan can’t help but imagine kissing, thinking of the way he’d probably be sweet about kissing back. Taylor’s all aggression and as much as Ryan loves it, she thinks she could go for the sweetness for a change. “We got flour on the  _ ceiling _ .”

Taylor laughs. “That takes talent.” 

And Ryan knows that smile, intimately. Taylor’s not the best at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to as a general rule and Ryan is extremely familiar with the way he’s leaning into Jordan’s space, the way he keeps readjusting the pillows. Taylor’s a tactile person, and when he flirts he only gets more handsy, finding every excuse to just touch. Ryan’s a little fixated on it, if she’s honest, watching Jordan blossom under the attention. 

“Oh my god, it’s  _ late. _ ”

Ryan laughs along with Taylor, checking her watch. “It’s early. Only eight.”

“Late when you get up before the sun,” Jordan points out and Ryan feels a little bereft when he reaches for the ice pack, sets it aside. Ryan has to curl her hands into fists to keep herself from reaching out for him and from the way Taylor’s arm extends along the back of the couch, just brushing at the wisps of hair curling at the bottom of her ponytail, he’s not doing much better. 

It’s a subdued goodbye, but there’s a tension in Taylor that doesn’t make any sense until they hear the door click shut. Ryan has enough time to inhale before Taylor’s tumbled her back to the couch, mouth latching onto her neck, sliding up over her jaw until he can take her mouth. Ryan gives as good as she gets and doesn’t break away until she needs to breathe. 

“God, Ryan,” he whispers raggedly, and tucks his face into her neck. “I love you, but-”

Ryan’s eyes flutter closed. “I know.”

His head comes up, eyes wide. “You do?”

“Of course I do, have you  _ seen _ him?” Ryan groans and drops her head back against the couch. “And I know you. How many times did you pull back from kissing him.” 

“Too many.” But Taylor’s grinning, wide and bright. “You want-”

“Is that wrong?”

Taylor kisses her then, slow this time, measured and drawn out, the way he does when he wants to take his time with her. “I love you,” he says again. “I think Jordan makes it… more.”

_ More _ . 

“Could we?” she asks breathlessly, tangling her fingers in Taylor’s hair. “Do you think he wants-”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he answers, kissing her again because he can and Ryan knows how bad he is at resisting the opportunity. “And I think I have a plan.”

 

“Well, this is a strange picture,” Noah drawls, leaning against the doorframe. Jack glances up from the pile of mince pies that she’s slowly decimating one by one. 

“Not that strange, you’ve seen me destroy stacks of food bigger than this. Pretty sure Jordan still hasn’t forgiven me for the  _ chaussons aux pommes  _ incident”

“You only do that when you’re feeling conflicted about something. You ate all those pastries when you were trying to decide to stay in Maine for college or go to Boston like you really wanted, remember?” He pours himself a cup of coffee and settles into the chair across from her. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind this time? Does it have something to do with a certain actor?”

She scowls. Noah knows her too well. “No.” When he just smirks at her over the rim of his mug, she growls. “I’m serious, I just - it’s a weird feeling. It’s crazy.”

He shrugs and pops a pie in his mouth. “It’s not that crazy,” he finally says after swallowing. “I mean, they call people like him stars for a reason, you know? They have this pull, only you have to be careful of everything that gets pulled into their orbit, too. So. Just be careful, you know?”

Jack scoffs and throws her napkin at his head. “What kind of metaphor is that? And I’m not going to-”

“Please, you’re starting to like him and you know it.” He grabs three pies and begins juggling them. “You think I didn’t see those googly eyes during the snowball fight? Why do you think I came over?”

She reaches over and snatches one of the pies out of the air. “To be a pain in my ass, as per usual.”

“I resent that,” he begins, just as the back door opens and Connor steps in.

“Oh, hi,” he says awkwardly, waving a hand. “Am I interrupting?”

Noah shakes his head, downing the rest of his coffee and pocketing the two pies. “Nope, just enjoying some pie and coffee. And I’ll be on my way, otherwise I’ll have a very irate girlfriend waiting for me at home.”

Jack snickers. “She is small, but vicious.”

“You know it.” Noah salutes Connor on his way out.

Jack offers Connor the plate. “Pie?” How unbelievably awkward for him to show up now that she’s been talking about him.

He takes one with a smile. “Did you know that there are moose actually crossing the lake?”

“Really?” Awkwardness vanishes in pure pleasure. “Then what are we doing standing here?” She stands up and grabs her coat. “Come on, I haven’t seen any in the lake since it froze over.”

Outside, she starts up one of the fire pits on the balcony, Connor trailing behind her with mugs of coffee. Sure enough, a pair of moose are slowly picking their way across the lake, moonlight bouncing off the ice and casting everything in a silvery gleam. “I thought you were Canadian, aren’t you used to moose?”

“Not in Toronto,” he responds, handing her a mug. “Those you don’t tend to see parading up and down Yonge Street.”

“We get them from time to time.” She watches the pair for a moment. “You don’t tend to see them traveling in groups like this, though. Usually it’s a mother and her calves, so those two must be brother and sister.”

Connor just shakes his head in disbelief. “This place is amazing. I...I could get used to this. It’s nice, not being in the spotlight.”

She can’t help her snort of laughter. “Really? You call having your movie crew, manager, bodyguard, and whatever the hell Mitch is - that’s not a spotlight?”

His grin is rueful as he sips at his coffee. “Fair enough. But none of that is here now, is it?”

He’s staring at her like she’s something special, like she’s something amazing and Jack isn’t quite sure how to handle that. She’s just been talking about  _ moose,  _ for crying out loud. And now he’s leaning in close, so close that she can see how long his eyelashes are, and the utter sincerity in his expression and-

She can’t do this. Jack turns her head away, looking into the flames. “Look. You’re leaving in a few days.”  _ Don’t do this. Don’t complicate things. _

“What if...what if I didn’t leave. What if I stay a few days? For Christmas, like Mila said.” He sounds so hopeful, that ridiculous Canadian sincerity dripping from every word. So utterly unlike the movie star he is.

_ There’s a reason why he’s called a star _ , she reminds herself. “And then after that? Look, you’re...you’re you.”  _ You’re also perfect and honest and sweet and adorable.  _ “And I’m just the grumpy mayor of a little town in Maine. Christmas ends, even here in Moose Lake.”

“But the magic doesn’t have to,” he argues and Jack wants to give in, almost more than anything. She wants to bleed off that hope in his voice. But she doesn’t want to get hurt. Not by him. 

“It always does,” she forces herself to say instead. “We can’t stop it or hope it won’t.” She sighs. “You’ll go back to Toronto, to your life and your movies and your fame and…”

_ You’ll forget about me _ .

“ _ Jack _ .” He sounds so insistent, so sure. 

“Put the fire out before you go,” she says softly and heads back inside. 

She leans against the door once she’s there, drops her head back against it and breathes, just breathes for a moment. He’s so much and he makes it seem so easy, but Jack knows better. No one with his star power wants to stay in a tiny little town like Moose Lake and Jack’s not ready to go. She’s not sure she’ll ever be. Their lives just aren’t compatible, no matter what she thinks of him, or how much she wants to kiss him, have him,  _ keep him _ . 

He’d be bored. He’d get annoyed with her, with Moose Lake. 

He wouldn’t stay. 

Because the idea of a superstar actor finding love with a mayor-slash-innkeeper in a tiny little town at Christmas? Well, it sounds like one of Connor’s movies, not real life. 

And last check, neither of them lived in a movie. 

 

Ryan’s humming at the counter, biting into the butteriest chocolate croissant she has ever put in her mouth when her phone starts going off. Both Taylor and Jordan startle, and Ryan feels her cheeks go red. “Sorry.”

Taylor waves her off, used to the interruption, but Jordan looks like he’s still watching as she digs her phone from her purse. It’s full of alerts, and Ryan’s eyes go wide. 

“Hey.” It’s Jordan, eyes worried. “Everything okay?”

She turns to Taylor. “We have to go.”

“What?” 

Ryan bites her lip against her own groan because Taylor sounds more than a little irritated by the whole thing. She understands, she really does. She likes this little bakery. More than that, she likes the baker, with his bluer than blue eyes - he and Taylor  _ match _ \- and excellent baking skills. 

“The paps are here,” she says, almost softly, definitely regretfully. “We have to go. Connor’s still sleeping. He can’t wake up and see this Taylor, not after how hard he worked to keep everything under wraps.” 

Taylor swears and stands, wraps his pastry up in one big hand and even Ryan winces alongside Jordan when she thinks of how squished it’ll be. “Coffee to go?”

Ryan faces Jordan, who’s blinking at her, blindsided. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “It’s…”

“Your job.”

“Someone like Connor always has fires to be put out. Even when he isn’t the one starting them.”

“ _ Especially _ when he isn’t starting them,” Taylor interjects.

Jordan nods. “Sounds like a full-time job.”

She winces again, this time because she can’t stand the way he sounds, like it would be overwhelming, even for him. It makes her stomach flip over, makes her yearn for Taylor’s easy confidence and unabashed faith. “Yeah. But we’ll be back.”

He shrugs. “Sure.” There’s something below that easy agreement, a heaviness that makes Ryan think he’s sure they won’t be back. Not today, of course, or the day after, but some fuzzy day in the distance.

Which is just unacceptable. She and Taylor have one hell of a job following Connor all over the world, but she can see how easy it would be to come back here to Jordan and the bakery, again and again and again.

They’ll just have to convince him of that. After they put out their latest fire.

 

“So you had real fondue last night, huh?” Jack laughs into the phone, absently tidying things up in the foyer. “I’m jealous. And now you’re all snug in your Alpine cottage, so I’m even more jealous.” She tilts her head to the side, grinning as her mother rattles off all the cool things they’ve seen or done in Switzerland so far. “Over here? You know me, I’m holding down the fort...no, I’m not drinking port, what?? Wait, mom, you’re breaking up, I can’t hear you.”

She steps out onto the porch and is immediately blinded by flashbulbs.

“Connor!”

“Is this where Steph Jones is staying?”

Jack blinks at them and they stare back at her, and then she swings back into the inn, swearing. “Sorry mom, I have to go...call Hanny or something. No, it’s fine, just some stuff with that ridiculous movie. I love you, talk to you later.”

Noah’s words are echoing in her head as she fires him a text ( _ need you over here, reporters on my lawn _ ). “Like hell if I’m going to be a part of that orbit,” she mutters under her breath as she stomps into the kitchen, where Alicia is serving pancakes to a very appreciative Steph and Connor. “Does someone want to tell me why we have paparazzi parked on my front lawn?” she announces.

“Really?” Mila squeaks from the kid’s table. She tries to bolt for the front room, but Jack scoops her up in her arms.

“Nuh-uh, nugget. We don’t want you going out where they can see you.” She glances at Connor. “Wasn’t this whole thing supposed to be a secret?”

His mouth is set in a grim line as he rises from the table, phone in hand. “I’m sorry Jack, the location must have leaked.”

“It could have been anyone,” Alicia says, coming forward to take Mila from Jack. “Someone in town could have told a relative…”

“I don’t care.” She must have been insane to even consider this. All of the chaos and insanity has no place in her life, no matter how goofy and sincere and god,  _ tempting _ the package is. “It’s just another mess.”

“Jack,” Connor murmurs, taking a step forward. She takes an automatic step back, refusing to acknowledge the kick in her gut at the hurt in his face. “I’m sorry. We’ll fix it, I promise.” His eyes search hers, asking for something she’s no longer sure she can give.

She shrugs and steps back again. “Deputy Hanifin is coming. I’m sure he can coordinate something with Taylor so that they wouldn’t bother you here or on set. If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

It’s the right thing to do, Jack says to herself as she walks away. After all, that’s what he’s going to do when all of this is finished, right?

 

“It was a cameraman,” Dylan says, flopping down beside Connor. “Leaked the information. Probably to line his own wallet for his kids’ Christmas.”

Connor blows out a breath, ducking down to bury his face in Dylan’s shoulder. “I’m screwed.” 

Ryan makes a sympathetic noise. 

“We can work around them,” Dylan offers, reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair. “We can stay on schedule.”

“I don’t think it’s the schedule he’s worried about,” Steph answers wryly. All eyes slide over to Connor, who shifts uncomfortably. “Are you falling for Jack?”

He sighs, staring down into his coffee like it has the answer to everything. “It doesn’t matter if I am, because she’s not falling for me.”

“Is she an idiot?” Dylan snaps. Connor sends her a disappointed look. “I’m just saying.”

“Answer the question, Connor,” Ryan says softly.

He groans. “What if I am falling in love with her, Ryan? What then?”

“Then you go for her and you make it work,” Steph replies, inching the curtain back to peer through the window. She makes a face and turns back to them. “If Roman and I can do it, you two definitely can. Jack’s not bouncing around everywhere. You’ll have a home base.”

He glances up, brow deeply furrowed like it is when he’s mulling over something. “What’s your home base, Steph?”

“Roman,” is the simple reply. “And I’m his. It’s all we need.”

Ryan makes a considering noise, her expression thoughtful.

_ Home isn’t where you live, it’s where you love. _

“Well, this is all wonderful, but it doesn’t exactly answer the question of what we’re going to do about the paps outside. All the interruptions mean we probably won’t get all the shots we need by the 23rd and-”

“Please don’t say we need the 24th, too.”

“-We need the 24th,” Dylan confirms, and shrugs. “I’m sorry, Davo, but it is what it is.”

“She’s going to hate me. She’ll make Noah kick us all out of town and never come back.”

Ryan snorts. “Don’t be overdramatic. We just need to come up with a plan and present it to her. We’ll ask for an impromptu town meeting - most of the town is already behind us, so we just need to find that hook.”

They all look over at the sound of a throat clearing. Mitch is standing there, eyes nervous and fixed on Dylan, fingers playing absently with the strap of his camera. “I have an idea,” he says. Connor waves him over and he sits down, takes a breath, and explains.

“Oh my god, that’s crazy enough that it might work,” Steph says, eyes aglow as Mitch finishes outlining his plan. “That could actually work.”

Connor looks down, picks at his fingers. “Jack’s still going to be pissed.”

Even Ryan looks a little sympathetic. “We’re doing what we can,” she says, rubs at Connor’s shoulder, as if they all don’t know the real reason Connor’s worried about Jack is, well… Dylan knows what ‘lovesick’ looks like on Connor. 

Dylan catches Mitch before he can head out, tugging on the sleeve of his sweater. “You should, uh.” She huffs. “I’ve got a camera guy down. Think you could fill in?” 

Mitch blinks at her. “What?” 

“We fired the guy who leaked the location,” she says, not quite meeting Mitch’s eyes. “I need someone to take a camera. It’ll take forever to get someone in here and you have the background and the experience. What do you think?”

He’s silent for more time than Dylan’s objectively comfortable with, both because this is Mitch and because she hates the idea that he sees it as anything other than the blatant opportunity it is. 

“Look,” she finally says, when he still doesn’t say a word. “We’re down a camera guy. It’s not, like, charity or anything. It’s an opportunity that you should really take because I could  _ literally _ call a dozen qualified people in an instant but you’re here and it just makes sense.”

And he could do it, but Dylan doesn’t say that. It’s practical decision making, just as much as it happens to be something that is maybe kind of  _ nice _ . 

“You’re offering me a job,” he says and Dylan hates how little emotion is in his voice. 

“I am offering you a twenty-four hour contract to help me finish this freaking movie.”

A smile starts on his face, curling up in a shy sort of move that makes her feel like she’s just handed him the moon. It’s a lot, is what she’s saying, and she’s not sure if he’s more bowled over by the idea that she could have remembered his opinions on charity or that she listened enough to remember. 

“Help you?”

Dylan has to swallow more than once before she can say. “No, help Davo. I never said me.” 

“You definitely said ‘me’,” is Mitch’s response, but the smile is turning genuine and there’s a weird ball of warmth in Dylan’s stomach. She’s just glad Mitch no longer looks pathetic with the smile on his face, that’s all. 

“Sure, Stromer,” he says, right when she’s opening her mouth to snipe back. “I’d be more than happy to help you out.” 

Dylan nods and convinces herself she’s imagining the way he sounds like it’s about her, not about Connor or the movie. What does she care anyway? It’s not like she feels anything other than mild disdain. It’s not like his smile makes her stomach turn over, or the way he laughs causes her chest to go tight. It’s not like she has fun taunting AND teasing him, and have him give it right back. It’s not like the way his eyes sparkle is something that haunts the back of her eyelids when she closes her eyes. It’s not like she’s even  _ noticed _ his eyes sparkle. 

Crap. 

 

Connor is at a loss after the meeting despite everything. He wanders aimlessly through the first floor of The Vic, well aware that Taylor is following him. Voices in the kitchen grab his attention and he veers that way, hoping to catch Jack, but it’s just Matt.

“I want that,” Connor murmurs to Taylor, watching as Matt bends down to accept the kiss Alicia places on his nose, handing over a plate of pancakes. He toes off his boots with ease, heading over to the table and smiling while Mila and Georgie dance around him.

“So take it,” Taylor replies with a shrug.

Connor shakes his head and leans against the wall. “It’s not that easy and you know it. That’s not how this story ends.”

Taylor mimics his stance, beaming as Connor scowls. He’s been with Connor from the very beginning, and his focus is one of the best things about him, but it can lead to tunnel vision. “You of all people should know, Davo. If you don’t like the ending, then change it. That’s what Nuge and I are doing, but first I have an appointment.” He strolls into the kitchen, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe. “I heard Mila was looking for me?”

“Taylor!” Mila cries happily, skipping over to take his hand. “Have tea with me!”

He gamely allows her to steer him over to the kiddie table, folding his huge frame into one of the chairs. He lets out a silent sigh of relief when it doesn’t collapse beneath his weight, ignoring Matt and Alicia’s amused grins.

“Are you here to be my bodyguard?” Mila asks excitedly, sitting in the chair across from him. “There are so many photographers outside, maybe they’ll want to take pictures of me like they do with Steph and Connor!”

Taylor sees Alicia wince out of the corner of his eye, considers his options for a moment before saying, “Why do you think Connor needs me, Mila?”

“Because he’s a movie star, of course!”

“No, not just because he’s a movie star. Because he’s a real person, just like you and me. And sometimes he wants to do normal people things, like go to the bakery and eat Jordan’s cookies.” He fiddles with the tiny toy plate in front of him. “But he can’t, because of people like those photographers. Being famous gives you a lot, but it takes away a lot, too.”

Mila’s silent for a moment, mulling over his words. When he glances over at Matt and Alicia, they both give him approving nods and a thumbs-up. Finally, she says, “Being Connor’s bodyguard...you protect him, and you’re there for him all the time. You’re like his best friend.”

“Exactly.”

She gives him a big, beaming smile. “I know I wanted you to be my bodyguard, Taylor, but I think you should stay with Connor. He needs you more.”

He matches her grin, and reaches across the table to shake her hand. “I think so, too.”

“Tea?” she inquires, holding up a purple plastic teapot.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

 

“They can’t film on Christmas Eve,” Jack protests for what feels like the hundredth time, over Dylan’s patient voice and the placating tones of Sam and his gavel. “There’s the Festival of Lights.” 

“Which is actually the point,” Dylan retorts. “Look just hear us out okay?”

Jack’s surprised when it’s Mitch that picks up from Dylan, when she sees Dylan’s subtle nod. “They want to film on Christmas Eve.” He lets out a sound when Dylan elbows him. “ _ We _ want to film on Christmas Eve.” There’s a little smile that tilts up the corner of his mouth. Jack thinks if it weren’t for the fact that they’re ruining Christmas, she’d be pretty smug about the way Mitch keeps flicking his gaze over to Dylan. 

“We won’t take up too much time. It’s just a few hours, we promise. And-” 

Even Jack feels her breath catch at the dramatics, and finds her eyes darting over to Connor. Who is watching her,  _ just _ her, his gaze unwavering. His expression is earnest and real and Jack feels the lump form in her throat. 

It won’t work. It  _ can’t _ work. He’ll never be here, always be running around, being a movie star and Jack… Jack just wants to be herself. She likes her quiet little town with the Moulsons, and the bakery, and Noah who always listens to her whine. 

“We want you as extras.”

Jack looks away from Connor to drop her head to the table as the place explodes with noise and excitement once again. 

“Who wants to be in a movie!”

Well. Jack can admit when she’s been bested. It doesn’t mean she has to like it, though. She keeps quiet as Dylan and Mitch go over the filming schedule, telling the townspeople when call time will be and all the assorted jazz. They want the big, romantic closing of the movie to be right smack dab in the middle of the Festival of Lights and part of her admits it will be spectacular. A confession, a kiss, carolers singing, all of Moose Lake’s lights on in the background…

It’s a movie, she reminds herself. It’s not real life at all. No matter how much she might wish it.

“So it would be great if we could have everyone there an hour before the actual ceremony.”

“Will we need to wear anything special?” Mila pipes up, provoking smiles and laughter.

Dylan grins. “I think as long as everyone is festive and warm, it’ll be great.”

“We’ll make sure there’s extra hot chocolate, mulled cider, and cookies for everyone, including the crew,” Sam promises, turning to Jordan, who just rolls his eyes, amused.

“As if I didn’t bake enough for our town three times over.” His eyes stray over to...Ryan and Taylor? And she knows Jordan, knows that look of longing and she can’t help but feel sympathetic. Their lives are tied to Connor’s too, so how can that ever work?

“What do you think, Madame Mayor?” Sam looks at her expectantly, and everyone else follows suit. Jack can still feel Connor’s gaze on her and half of her just wants to pitch a petulant fit. But she’s the  _ mayor _ , she has a duty to uphold and it’s the will of the people.

She gets to her feet and gives everyone a perfunctory smile. The air in town hall is suddenly stifling. “It seems everything is in hand. The show must go on, right? Meeting adjourned.”

Somehow she manages to get to her office before anyone can catch her, shutting the door behind her and sitting in the darkened room for a moment.  _ Two more days _ , she tells herself. Two more days and all of this madness is finished. Two more days and life goes back to normal.

Normal, something whispers, but a little more empty.

There’s a knock, then her door creaks open. “Jack?”

Of course Connor would try to find her. Jack sits up straight in her chair and glares, needing to do something about all these feelings inside of her and well, he’s a pretty good target. “What are you doing here? Look, you’ve won, all right? You got your extra day and you’ve hijacked Christmas Eve, so just... _ go _ .”

He rocks back on his heels like her words have physically struck him. “Jack...this isn’t about winning.”

“Could have fooled me,” she mutters. She can’t even look at him right now. “Just do what you came here to do and go, okay? Like you were always going to do.”

“Jack.” How  _ dare _ he sound so heartbroken, like all of this actually means something to him. She has half a mind to throw a paperweight at his head.

Instead, Jack just takes a deep breath and lets out all of the anger and frustration and yes, loss, that’s building up inside her. It takes all of her considerable strength to give him a smile like she gave at the town hall meeting. Bland. Professional. “I have work to do, Mr. McDavid. And so do you.”

 

Noah had been one hundred percent on board with their scheme, Ryan knows that, but now that she’s sitting at what has become her ‘usual’ table in the bakery, waiting anxiously for Taylor to show up, she can’t help but think maybe they’re pushing their luck a little. She likes Jordan, how sweet he is, the little tinge of sass that shows up with Noah and with her and Taylor sometimes. She likes the blue of his eyes and the quirkiness of his smile. 

She likes  _ him _ . She’s just nervous, is all. Very nervous. Not about Taylor, not about them, but about adding another person. Adding Jordan, who’s grown up in this tiny little town and has no idea what the hustle and bustle of something like Connor brings. She doesn’t want to let things with Connor colour her own hope, but she can’t help it. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Ryan looks up and sighs, waves an absent hand Jordan’s way. “Yeah, fine. It’s-”

“Stressful,” he says quietly. “It’s been crazy around here, with the photographers.”

She blows out a breath because that sure doesn’t make her feel better about the stress that she and Taylor could easily bring to Jordan’s life. “It wasn’t supposed to come out.” 

Jordan hums. “Can’t control everything.” 

They both look up when the door chimes and Taylor steps in,  _ whistling _ for god’s sake, like they’re not battling photographers at every turn and like he probably hasn’t just left Connor on set after seeing him there safely. 

“Morning,” Taylor all but sings, sauntering up to the counter and flashing them both a wink. “What’s the special today, Baker Jordan.” 

Ryan hears the little breath Jordan lets out, like he’s just as exasperated as Taylor can make her, but he wanders back behind the counter. “Apple fritters. And a coffee?” 

“Sounds like the best thing ever,” Taylor agrees and Ryan watches him follow Jordan over, exchanging light smalltalk. Ryan bites her lip. She knows her line here, her part, but she’s still  _ nervous _ . This could go to hell in a handbasket and she’s kind of surprised at how much she hopes it doesn’t. 

“Hey Taylor,” she says, and hopes to all Christmas wishes that her voice doesn’t sound like it’s shaking. “Mistletoe.” She points up.

It’s almost entirely worth it for the look on Jordan’s face. The shock is obvious, but Ryan is  _ looking _ , testing. Taylor’s mouth splits open in a grin, part teasing, yes, but Ryan knows where to look for the soft spots. 

“What do you think?” Taylor challenges, just a little sly. “Can’t leave mistletoe hanging.”

Jordan splutters for a moment, looking over at Ryan. She’s not sure what Jordan sees, but his shoulders go straight and Ryan feels her breath catch as he leans across the counter. He’s aiming for Taylor’s cheek, but Taylor, absolute wonderful fantastic  _ menace _ Taylor, turns his face to meet Jordan’s mouth with his own. 

Ryan can’t breathe. She can’t help it. It’s a picture out of her imagination, acted out in real time and so far beyond everything she could have expected. She doesn’t realize she’s stopped breathing until Jordan breaks away, eyes immediately finding hers. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, stumbling back. “I’m - it’s mistletoe.”

“It’s okay.” 

Everything feels like it freezes for a moment. Taylor’s totally still where he’s leaning over the counter, palms braced on the surface. Ryan’s the one that eventually breaks and steps up. 

She’ll never know what makes her do it. In hindsight, she won’t remember the moment she’d known it was the right thing, but she takes Taylor by the back of the neck and leans in to kiss him. Logically, she knows there is no taste of Jordan on Taylor’s mouth, that it isn’t possible given how innocent and chaste the kiss had been, but Ryan licks her lips as she pulls away, regardless, facing Jordan with eyes that must be so telling. 

Taylor’s hand is warm at the bottom of her spine as he manages to clear his throat and say, “Ryan’s turn, Jordan.” Then, after a beat. “If you want.”

Jordan blows out a heavy breath and for a moment, Ryan thinks he won’t. But then his hand reaches out, catching her shirt and tugging her closer. “Yeah,” he says against her mouth and makes her stomach turn over wonderfully. “Yeah, I do.” 

Ryan can’t stop the noise she makes as Jordan kisses her, can’t help the way her body sags into the counter at the sound of Taylor’s exhale and the hand he presses against her back, slipping just a little too low to be decent. She braces one hand on the counter and uses the other to thread into Jordan’s hair, holding him there as she indulges herself. 

“Oh my god,” she hears Taylor say, but she’s too busy getting kissed to respond, too busy cataloguing how she’d been wrong about Jordan’s sweet kisses. They’re not the same, him and Taylor and the way they kiss, but there’s an aggression to Jordan that Ryan thinks she really wants to explore.

“Oh my god, you have to stop,” Taylor says and presses right up against Ryan’s side. She pulls away with a gasp and a whimper right when Taylor nips at the hinge of her jaw. Jordan’s eyes are wide and very, very blue. 

“I’m done at three,” Jordan blurts breathlessly, mouth kiss-bitten red and cheeks flushed. “If…if you want.”

“Yes,” Taylor answers fervently and Ryan’s glad for it. She’s not convinced she could speak if she wanted to. “Just.  _ Yes _ .”

Jordan beams and so does Ryan, her hand slipping down over his cheek and jaw. It does take her three attempts before she says, “Yes. We’ll be back.” 

When they have uninterrupted time, when they can talk about what this means, how this is going to work. When she and Taylor can convince Jordan that even while they follow Connor around here there and everywhere, one of those places will most likely be Moose Lake. 

She can’t resist leaning in again, this kiss much more chaste than the last, easy and soft. Jordan makes a content noise when she pulls back and she barks out an incredulous laugh when Taylor nudges at her hip. 

“You’re hogging him,” Taylor says, eyes a dark blue Ryan knows so very well. 

“I can’t help it,” Ryan replies, kisses Taylor’s cheek in a sort of quasi-apology. “He’s so cute.” 

Jordan flushes and smiles shyly, Taylor scoffs and Ryan feels like this alone is the best kind of Christmas present.

 

“You sure you want me to film?”

Dylan looks over from where she’s skimming through the script for any last minute additions, anything she thinks needs to be changed or altered. It’s the time, anyway. She knows Connor’s feeling generous and amenable, even if it’s because he just wants to get it done and get out of there, give Jack the space and traditions she seems so fixated on. 

God, Dylan could wring Jack’s neck. 

“Why not?” Dylan replies, a little absently. They still don’t have a lot of time, no matter that the town was pretty agreeable to filming and being extras. “It was your idea.”

“I could suck at it.” 

Dylan goes still. Slowly, so slowly, she lifts her gaze until she meets Mitch’s eyes. He even looks nervous and it makes Dylan’s stomach turn over uncomfortably. “You backing out?” 

“No,” he blurts out, because he’s never backed away from a challenge that Dylan can remember. “But you don’t know-”

“Actually,” she says over him. “I do. Know.” 

Mitch makes an inquiring noise. 

Dylan’s heart is beating hard in her chest. It’s stupid, she knows it is, because this is just Mitch, for goodness sake. “Leafsbro16. You think you’re subtle?” 

Mitch’s mouth gapes open for a moment, long enough for Dylan to think seriously about chirping him for it before it snaps closed. “You follow my YouTube channel?” 

And his Instagram. The professional one and the personal one where he posts dumb selfies and shots of his rec hockey team. Look, he’s good at what he does. She rolls her eyes. “Marns. Mitch.” She knows her body language softens, relaxes a little. “You’re not going to suck at this, okay? You’ve done it, like, a hundred times.” 

“Not on an actual movie set.”

“It’s not different,” Dylan argues. “It’s a camera. It’s a shot.”

“People are going to see it-”

“Oh my god, Mitch.” His mouth snaps closed again, almost audibly this time. “I am never in my  _ life _ saying this again, but you’re good, you absolute idiot. You’re actually good at this stuff. The views on YouTube, the  _ subscribers _ , and you think your photos aren’t getting attention? We both know they are. So I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at here. You can  _ do this _ .”

It takes a long time for Mitch to finally say something, and it comes out reverent, “That… Dylan.” 

Dylan shifts uncomfortably, trying not to watch the way those baby blues light up, warm and… god. It’s all in his face now, and she wonders if she’s just missed it, or if she just didn’t want to look. “It’s true.”

It’s so quiet she kind of wonders if he’s even breathing before he chokes out, “You’re so stupid.” 

Dylan opens her mouth to argue - she is  _ not _ stupid, Mitch is stupid - but before she can so much as get a word out, Mitch has wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and yanked her face down. It takes her a minute to realize he’s mashed their mouths together, that  _ Mitch Marner is kissing her _ . She startles with it, feels Mitch go stiff and start to pull away…

And she kisses back. She gets her hands in the fabric of his coat and holds on, yanks him in so he’s pressed to her front and releases a little noise when it’s still not quite there. 

“What, god, why are you whining? I should have known even making out you can’t stop-”

“Shut. Up,” Dylan retorts, getting her arm around his waist and hefting just a little. Then it’s perfect, it’s everything and Mitch gives as good as he gets, nipping at her lip when she presses in harder, letting her lick into his mouth like she wants nothing else. 

It’s the clearing of someone’s throat, a  _ polite _ clearing of someone’s throat, that draws their attention away from each other and Mitch rather reluctantly steps back, tries to find his balance. Dylan can’t help the little smug grin that slips over her face, even as she turns to Connor. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he all but laughs, amusement in his voice. “We, uh. Have a movie to film.” 

Dylan lifts her chin, adjusts her coat and loosens her scarf from where Mitch must have yanked on it. “Nice of you to show up, superstar.”

Connor merely arches an eyebrow, but Dylan can see it in his face, the way he needs to get out of here. “You couldn’t wait until we were back in Toronto?”

“I’ve been waiting like, ten years, so no,” Mitch says, and Dylan startles just a little. 

“Ten years?” she asks, incredulous.

Connor rolls his eyes. “You have got to be kidding me. Now? You’re going to do this now?”

“I listened to you whine for how long about  _ Mayor Eichel _ , you’re going to shut up,” Dylan hisses and turns back to Mitch. “Ten years?”

He shrugs. “You hated me.”

“Oh my god,” Connor says. “Do this  _ later _ .”

Dylan looks between Connor and Mitch, wants answers more than anything, but… “After,” she says to Mitch. “Maybe I’ll let you take me out to dinner when we’re back in Toronto.”

He nudges her, the smile coming back over his face, and Dylan can see it now, everything she’s made herself miss in being so angry at him. “Or you can take me out, Ms. Hot Shot Director.”

Dylan laughs, but sucks in a breath, worries her fingers together a little. “It’s, um. It’s a date.” 

Mitch’s smile is more than worth it. “Yeah, Stromer. It’s a date.” 

 

“Hey, superstar.”

Connor looks up with a wobbling smile. Steph plops into her seat next to him, nudging his shoulder. “Hey.” 

“So,” she continues, grin as wide as Connor wishes he could make his. “Did you see my Christmas present?” 

“Your what? You got me a Christmas present?”

Steph hums. “Well, it’s from me and Roman. You haven’t seen it?” She’s already digging in her pocket and pulling out her phone. Connor thinks she’s humming ‘Jingle Bell Rock’. “This. Mitch can sure take a great picture, can’t he?”

Connor leans over. There, plain as day on Steph’s phone screen, is a zoomed-in, grainy picture of a massive engagement ring. His stomach flips over. “Steph, you don’t have to fake an engagement-”

“Screw you,” Steph retorts amicably. “It’s real as real can be, McDavid.” She looks comfortable with the idea, her eyes sparkling. “He proposed in a mountain chalet. It was beautiful and classy.”

“Steph,” Connor says, grinning and so happy. “Oh Steph.”

“They’re not talking about you anymore.”

Connor looks down at the phone again as she scrolls through to see articles on how Roman probably proposed, and even a few arguments referring to Steph as the one who got down on one knee. He hates the way his smile takes on a sad little edge. “Thanks, but. I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

“Meh,” Steph waves her hand. “I get to wear my ring,  _ finally _ . I think we were going to wait for the off-season, you know? Announce it when we were in Switzerland if I wasn’t working. Gives us space and perspective.” She shrugs. “This was better.” 

“Steph-”

She cuts him off with a single look. “Look. I’ve worked with you for how long, Connor?”

“Too long,” Connor says wryly. 

“Mmhmm and in that ‘too long’ have I ever done anything I didn’t want to do?”

He can feel the involuntary smile. “Once.” 

Her eyes narrow. “What did we say about the Pink Hair Incident.” 

Connor holds up his hands, his smile taking on an innocent edge. There have been a few Star-Man and Princess Aster crossovers, so in industry terms they’ve known each other a long time. “Never happened.”

Steph laughs, pleased. “Exactly. So trust me when I say that I wanted to do this. Roman too. And hey, I helped out a friend, which just happened to be a bonus.”

He tosses an arm around her shoulder and hugs her close. “Thanks, Steph.”

“Any day now, guys.” Dylan’s standing outside the gazebo, talking into her megaphone. “We have a scene to shoot.”

“I’m going to take that megaphone and pitch it into the lake,” Steph mutters, getting to her feet and tugging Connor after her.

“The frozen lake?”

She punches his shoulder. “Are you doubting me?”

“After today? Never.”

Steph flashes the million-dollar smile that’s won her hearts all over the world. “As it should be.”

 

Jack hunts Mila down in her room, staring at her iPad. “Mila, come on. We’re going to miss the festival.” 

Mila drops the iPad to her bed as Jack approaches, and Jack catches sight of the article on Steph and her NHL-hockey-playing boyfriend - make that fiancee. 

“Hey. You shouldn’t read that stuff.” 

“Why?” Mila asks, still pouting a little. “It’s real, isn’t it? Steph has a boyfriend who wants to marry her.”

Jack blows out a breath and leans on the end of Mila’s bed. “Yeah. I think so.” 

“So. They’re not lying.” 

“Mila.”

Mila’s already looking down at the screen, her fingers tracing along the edges. She looks small when she’s like this, so much smaller and less sure that Jack ever wants her to feel. “Can you keep a secret, Jack?”

“Of course.” 

Still, Mila keeps her eyes on the tablet as she says. “I want this for you.”

Jack blinks. “Huh?”

“My wish this year was for you to fall in love,” Mila says, eyes earnest as she looks up. 

Jack sighs, shifting her weight back a little as her heart stutters. “With Connor.”

“No,” Mila answers, and Jack can’t see it as anything other than the truth. “Santa must have just figured that part out for himself. But Jack, Santa doesn’t get it wrong.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Jack murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Mila’s ear. “It’s not that simple.” 

Mila’s silent for a beat, then two before she says, “Shouldn’t it be?” 

And Jack… Jack doesn’t know. She likes Connor, much to her own chagrin. She likes the contradictory idea of him, the way he is with Mila and her town, his friendship with Stromer and Ryan. 

But she also likes her quiet little town. She likes Moose Lake and being herself, being able to walk the streets and be greeted warmly. She likes not having to worry about what’s being said or written, that her privacy will be violated in any way shape or form. It’s not something she’s willing to give up, not even for Connor. 

“Come on,” Jack finally says. “We have to get going, okay? Can’t miss your film debut.” 

Mila giggles a little bit and clamours into Jack’s arms. She’s getting too big to lift and carry, but Jack hefts her over the foot of her bed anyway. There are so many things she wants to say when Mila clings for a moment before Jack gently drops her to the ground. She doesn’t want to shatter Mila’s illusions of fairy tales and happily ever afters but she doesn’t want to lie either. 

She and Connor would never work, could never work. Every matchmaking member of Moose Lake, Jack thinks, is just going to have to deal.

 

Connor flicks absently through his phone, ignoring the happy humming sounds from Steph as she bounces her foot. The last scene. The rom-com ending with lights and a swelling soundtrack and of course, a kiss.

Too bad he’s not in the mood for any of it.

“Long face,” Taylor says as he nudges Connor’s shoulder at makes him jump. “It’s Christmas Eve.” 

Connor eyes what may actually be a hickey on the hinge of Taylor’s jaw. “A good one for you, I take it?”

Taylor at least has the grace to blush. “Not the point, there Davo.” 

“Then what is?” And Connor hates that he sounds snappish. He really, really does, especially to Taylor, who is never anything but wonderful. Connor sighs. “Sorry. I just…she’s made her choice. And it isn’t me.”

Taylor’s quiet for a moment before he says, slowly, like he’s choosing his words with the utmost care. “Since when have you ever chosen to walk away? When have you chosen not to put in the work?” He moves until he’s in front of Connor, blocking his view of Jack. “Since when does Connor McDavid give up?” 

Connor opens his mouth and closes it a few times, tries to come up with a suitable argument. Taylor’s already kind of smirking when Connor meets his eyes again. 

“Remember our last conversation? Change the end of the movie.”

“How?”

Taylor shrugs and moves away as Dylan calls them to set. Connor hesitates and looks back at Jack again, this time to find her gazing back at him. 

_ Since when does Connor McDavid give up _ ?

He’s moving before he really realizes it, ignoring Dylan’s indignant noises in the face of Jack. Jack and the surprise that slowly blooms over her face. Connor can’t stop himself from reaching out and gripping her mittened hands in his own. He isn’t sure what he’s going to say until he opens his mouth. 

“Ask me to stay.” It all comes out in a rush. He feels the desperate sound of it. “Ask me to stay for Christmas.” 

Jack’s breath catches audibly. 

“We’ve been making this complicated.  _ You’ve _ been making this complicated. You worry so much about everything being the same, about staying with the status quo that you won’t… you can’t see what’s in front of you.”

_ I’m in front of you. _

“I know it won’t be easy, okay? My career is insane, the fame is insane but I -  _ we _ can figure it out, Jack. You just have to give me a chance. You have to let us try and prove that we can do this. Trust me. Choose me.” 

There’s a hush that’s fallen over the crowd and Connor knows it, but he feels like there is absolutely nothing in the world more important than this. This moment. This woman. 

“I love what I do,” he goes on quietly. “I love acting and producing and making movies but sometimes…sometimes I miss just being Connor. Just Connor who loves to skate and watch Christmas movies and go to a damn grocery store without the paparazzi dogging my every step and whether you know it or not, you gave me that. You  _ give _ me that.” He sucks in a deep breath. “You are that. Grounding.  _ Home _ .”

Connor doesn’t know what’s on his face. He isn’t even sure what’s on Jack’s, but he swallows around the lump in his throat and says again, “Ask me to stay, Jack.” 

Jack looks stunned, absolutely flattened by the concept and Connor hates the way he feels like it’s slipping away. “I-”

She doesn’t go on and Connor feels his heart deflating. He lets go of her hands, steps back and tucks his own in his pockets. He sucks in a deep breath and takes another step back. He has a movie to film, after all, and then he can pack up all his things. Maybe Dylan’s family will have him for the holidays and-

“You are… the most  _ obstinate _ person I have ever met in my life.” 

Connor’s head flies up, meeting Jack’s absolutely infuriated gaze. 

“You waltzed in here, bluster and Hollywood entitlement and you upended every single thing about Christmas that Moose Lake holds dear. You moved Santa, ruined the tree lighting with your filming; you have been nothing but a pain in my ass since you arrived.” 

Connor clenches his hands and his jaw, looking away from that piercing stare.

“There is absolutely nothing here for you.  _ Nothing _ . And you’re still standing there, asking me, of all of the damn people in this town, to stay here for Christmas.” 

Connor has to valiantly resist the urge to dig his toe into the snow and stares at his boot laces instead. Right up until he sees another set of boots step toe-to-toe with his. Jack’s looking at him like he is insane, and also like he’s the best puzzle she’s ever going to see. 

“I’m not nice,” she states. “I’m demanding and stubborn. This is my town, these are my people and I take that seriously.”

“I know that-”

“Shut up.” But she’s laughing a little when she says it and Connor feels his breath catch again, this time with a flare of hope. “You want this?”

It takes a beat, but Connor sees the moment for what it is. He inhales sharply. It’s been a long time since he’s missed a cue. “I want  _ you _ .”

“I’m going to drive you insane.”

“You already do,” he says, unable to stop the smile that’s starting to spread over his face. “You’re so  _ stubborn _ .” 

“Look who’s calling the kettle black there, Mr. Pot-”

“Jack.” Her mouth clicks closed, but Connor can still see the little glimmer in the corner of her eye, fear and anticipation and hope all rolled into one. “Jack. Ask me to stay.” 

It takes her more than a few seconds before she finally says, so, so quietly. “Connor. Stay. Here.”

For Christmas, for always, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. They can cross that bridge, he thinks giddily, reaching for her and hugging her as tightly as he knows how. 

“That’s not how a movie ends!” Mila calls out, sounding quite indignant. “Movies end with a kiss!”

Connor’s grinning, the wide dorky one he knows Dylan always makes fun of him for. “What do you think, Mayor Eichel?”

“That this isn’t a movie.” But she hasn’t moved away, hasn’t even leaned back and Connor rolls his eyes, sliding a hand up to cup the bottom of her skull and angle her head. 

It’s awkward, because Jack is mid sentence and Connor can’t stop grinning. She makes a disgruntled noise and pulls back a bit, mittens just a little bit rough on his cheeks. 

“Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

Her kiss is, admittedly, better, not that he’ll ever admit it. Instead he gets his arm around her, towing her in and making the kiss just a little more thorough, a little more focused. She makes a quiet sound in the back of her throat and angles in to kiss him back in the way that makes Connor just want to stay here, holding her like this until his head stops spinning. 

“Davo. Can’t you wait until we’re done here?” Dylan yells through the megaphone, over the cheers of what seems like the entire town. It startles Jack back hard enough that Connor has to catch and steady her. Then she’s barking out a laugh and shaking her head. The look on her face when she meets his eyes again is just a little shy and Connor’s heart thumps hard. 

“Better, uh. Finish your movie there.”

Connor nods, rocks on his feet a little. “And then Christmas in Moose Lake?”

He’s not sure he’s ever seen anything as brilliant as her smile when she says, “Yeah, superstar. Then Christmas in Moose Lake.” 

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HANUKKAH/HAPPY KWANZAA/ETC.
> 
> So this is all my (Jo's) fault because of Hallmark Christmas movies. I keep commenting on them to Em, and all of a sudden it just kind of spiraled out of control. Loosely based off "Christmas in Homestead."
> 
> Want more? You should all come [scream with us on Tumblr.](http://wonthetrade.tumblr.com)


End file.
